Battling the Darkness
by Dani-Ellie03
Summary: A confrontation on the docks with the remaining Queens of Darkness had not at all been on the agenda for the evening ... and then, before either Killian or Emma had the chance to react, Maleficent and Cruella had taken advantage of their good fortune.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Battling the Darkness  
**Summary:** A confrontation on the docks with the remaining Queens of Darkness had not at all been on the agenda for the evening ... and then, before either Killian or Emma had the chance to react, Maleficent and Cruella had taken advantage of their good fortune.  
**Spoilers:** Up through 4x15, "Poor Unfortunate Soul."  
**Rating/Warning:** T, mostly for safety, language, and possible later hints/descriptions of child abuse. Charming Family and Captain Swan angst/fluff, as per usual.  
**Disclaimer:** _Once Upon a Time_ and its characters were created by Eddie Kitsis and Adam Horowitz and are owned by ABC. They left the toys out, I'm just getting my playtime in before they put them away.  
**Author's Note: ** diyamehta2 asked me for a "Watch Over Me"-type story where Emma gets into a terrible accident. Everyone and their mother has done car accidents and I was in the middle of a sick!fic, so I decided to go with magical accident ... and then this came to me. Set in a very nebulous time post-"Poor Unfortunate Soul" but before "Best Laid Plans" (mostly because I conceived of the idea prior to "Best Laid Plans"). Bear with me, guys, for here be danger. Feedback thrills me to pieces! Enjoy. :)

* * *

Neither Killian Jones nor Emma Swan had seen it coming.

A confrontation on the docks with the remaining Queens of Darkness had not at all been on the agenda for the evening. What had been on the agenda was a quiet walk down by the harbor, mostly to calm Emma's nerves. Everything had been getting to her: Cruella and Maleficent, Gold being back in town, the sudden unreliability of her "superpower," an undercover operation being planned without her.

It was Killian who'd suggested going for a walk so she could clear her head and somehow by silent agreement, they'd both started heading for the water.

Neither of them had known that Cruella and Maleficent were down at the docks as well. From the surprise on the women's faces, it was clear that they hadn't expected to find themselves so close to the savior and her pirate, either. And then, before either Killian or Emma had the chance to react, Maleficent and Cruella had taken advantage of their good fortune.

All Killian had seen before his world went black was Emma Swan being magically flung through the air, hurtling towards one of the dock's weathered pilings.

Waking was difficult, as if Killian were struggling to kick to the surface of an inky ocean far deeper than he expected. The exhaustion – magic? – was heavy and crushing but some vague urgency at the very edge of his awareness made him fight all the harder. Something was wrong, something was very wrong …

And then he surfaced. His eyes snapped open to a gorgeous, star-filled night sky and he could hear and smell the ocean all around him. Had he fallen asleep on the deck of the _Jolly Roger_ again? No, that wasn't it. There was something else, something …

Swan. Killian sat up, suddenly wide awake and heart pounding in his chest. Swan, where was Swan? His frantic eyes swept the docks, looking for signs of life.

The Queens were gone. How long had he been out? Judging by the stars' positions above him when he awoke, not very long. Where the hell was Emma? Had they taken her? If they had, he would bloody well chase them down.

It took a few panicked moments but he finally found Emma Swan, lying in a crumpled heap at the base of the piling. His heart in his throat, Killian dashed forward and fell to his knees beside her. "Emma, love," he said roughly, his voice hitching.

She didn't move.

No, no, no, this couldn't be happening, not again. With a trembling hand, he gingerly placed his fingers on her neck. Please, please, please …

A heavy breath of relief escaped his lips when he felt her pulse beneath his fingertips. Thank the gods, it _wasn't_ happening again. "Emma, love," he repeated, trying to rouse her.

Nothing.

He shook her shoulder somewhat roughly. Still nothing. What the bloody hell had those monsters done to her?

Before the panic churning in Killian's stomach had a chance to grow into a burbling well, Regina appeared beside him and Emma on the dock in a cloud of purple smoke. "I heard them bragging and sneaked out as soon as I could. What happened?"

He didn't know. Oh gods, _he didn't know_. "I haven't the faintest," he said, looking up at the formerly evil queen pleadingly. "She won't wake."

Regina appraised the scene in front of her, then glanced to either side. Killian understood in an instant; she wanted to make sure the others weren't lurking about in the shadows. After all, she still had a cover to maintain. "Hold onto yourself, Captain, and hold onto her," she instructed, raising her hand. "This is going to be more than a little disorienting for you."

No sooner had Killian stood and gathered a still unconscious Emma Swan in his arms than a cloud of deep purple smoke enveloped the three of them. Killian felt a brief but sickening moment of weightless dizziness and then relief as his feet once again touched terra firma. The smoke cleared and Killian was surprised to find himself standing in some kind of underground vault filled with objects that looked like they would be more at home in the Enchanted Forest than in Storybrooke.

Regina waved her hand and a small air mattress appeared on the ground beside them. "Set her down," the queen said, nodding towards the mattress, "and tell me everything you remember."

Killian once again did as instructed, tenderly laying Emma down on the air mattress. Throughout the entire journey, she hadn't so much as flinched.

Without taking his eyes off Emma, Killian explained how the two of them had simply gone for a walk to calm Swan's nerves. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Regina pacing the perimeter of the little room. It took him a moment to realize she was taking stock of her supplies. "We didn't expect to run into Cruella and Maleficent. They clearly hadn't expected to run into us, either, but they certainly took advantage of the situation. The last thing I remember is seeing a blast of magic burst forth from the dragon's staff, magic that knocked Emma off her feet and must have rendered both of us unconscious. I don't understand, then, why I'm awake and she's not, nor do I understand what that magic did aside from allowing us a nap. I feel perfectly normal."

"Maleficent got you both with a sleeping spell, that much is for certain," Regina agreed. "However, I do believe you were simply in the way. She was the one they wanted."

"Then why didn't they take her? They certainly could have."

"They didn't exactly let me in on the details but I have a theory."

When she didn't say anything further, Killian finally tore his eyes away from his Swan. "Do you intend to share?"

"Let me see if I'm right first."

Her tone made her underlying meaning crystal clear: there was no sense worrying him if her hunch was incorrect. Killian nodded while saying a silent prayer that she was indeed incorrect.

Regina knelt down beside the still unconscious Emma. After taking a moment to simply observe her – her chest was visibly rising and falling with each breath, her brow was slightly pinched as if she were seeing something unpleasant – the queen held her hand out above Swan, palm facing down. Then she shut her eyes and concentrated.

When she opened her eyes, Killian winced at the concern swimming in them. "I know this spell. It's another of Maleficent's, designed to be a middle ground between the sleeping spell she cast on you and the sleeping curse she used on Aurora."

The very same sleeping curse that the queen herself had used on Snow White, though Killian didn't find it prudent to bring that up at this moment.

Regina continued, the grave tone of her voice punctuating the severity of the situation. "This spell keeps its victims trapped in a dream world populated by their worst memories. And we're not talking vague remembrances, here. She's essentially reliving each of those memories as if it were the first time, over and over again."

Killian's heart began to pound in his chest. He was angry. He was worried. He was scared. His poor Swan was in that dream world, experiencing every bad thing that had ever happened to her on a constant loop. "Bloody get her out of it," he practically growled.

Regina had already stood to get to work. Giving Killian a nod, she crossed to the other side of the vault to begin creating some kind of antidote or counterspell. Killian remained on the ground beside his Swan, holding her hand in his and gently running his thumb over the back of it.

Could she feel the real world while in the dream world? He hoped she could, hoped his touch would act as a kind of anchor for her.

From what little she'd told him of her early years, Killian gathered that his poor Swan's entire life had been one bad memory after another until a ten-year-old boy showed up on her doorstep on her twenty-eighth birthday. With twenty-eight years' worth of horrible experiences to pull from, this spell had to be utter _torture_ for her.

It seemed as if it took forever for the queen to finish her work. It was, in reality, probably only a few minutes but to Killian, who could only imagine what his Swan was reliving in the spell's nightmare world, it felt like an eternity before Regina handed a small vial of pale blue liquid to Killian. "Unfortunately, she needs to ingest it."

Of course she did. After making sure he had the antidote firmly in hand, Killian positioned himself behind Emma, sitting her up as much as he could so she wouldn't aspirate on the liquid he was about to pour down her throat.

She actually managed to swallow the potion, though Killian figured that was more an unconscious physical response than any kind of conscious awakening.

And they waited. Nothing happened; there was no change in Emma's condition whatsoever. When the queen frowned, Killian grew even more concerned. "Why didn't it work?"

"Stand back, Captain," Regina said by way of a response. "I want to try something."

He didn't think he liked the sound of that. "What are you going to do to her?"

"If I'm right, absolutely nothing. However, if I am right, you're going to need to take cover."

He _really_ did not like the sound of that but what choice did he have? Waking Swan from that hellhole was paramount; whatever Regina needed to do, he was going to allow her to do it.

His heart aching for his Swan, he squeezed her hand before letting it go and backing away from the air mattress. When he was at a sufficient distance, Regina conjured a small ball of sparkling purple energy. Before he had the chance to protest, she thrust her hand forward, sending the ball straight for Emma.

"No!" Killian cried too late.

Much to his immense relief, the energy didn't harm her. Much to his great surprise, however, it instead ricocheted off her and slammed into the opposite wall with a slight sizzle.

"Damn it, Miss Swan," Regina sighed.

Killian was beyond confused and beyond angry. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" he cried, whirling on Regina.

"Relax, Captain," the queen said, stopping just short of rolling her eyes. "That energy wouldn't have hurt her if it had hit her. I needed to use magic on her to confirm my theory. There is no reason that antidote wouldn't have had an immediate effect … unless she was somehow blocking it from taking effect with her own magic."

Killian's confusion must have been written across his features because Regina sighed impatiently. "Magic did this to her. Her magic has previously protected her from danger, even if she wasn't actively trying to protect herself. I believe you witnessed the incident with my mother in the Enchanted Forest. I also witnessed an incident where she saved herself from a very long fall without any conscious effort."

"She's unconsciously protecting herself from further attack," Killian breathed in realization.

"Precisely," Regina confirmed with a nod. "And that's all well and good but she's protecting herself from _all _further magic, not just threatening magic."

"So the antidote won't work," Killian finished, once again crouching down beside his Swan.

"It will work eventually," Regina clarified, "when she finally lets her subconscious defenses down."

Killian let out a heavy breath. His poor Swan was trapped in that nightmare world and only she could let herself out. "What do we do in the meantime?"

"Take her home and make her comfortable," Regina instructed. "Surround her with the familiar; voices and comforting smells might help her to subconsciously recognize safety. I'll poof you both to the loft but I can't stay."

Killian understood. She'd risked a lot by staying away this long.

But apparently she wasn't done. "Hook, there's one more thing. I don't know this for certain but I believe time is of the essence here. The longer she's under this spell, the more risk we run."

"The more risk of what?"

Regina spared a concerned glance at Emma and then looked directly at Killian, wanting to make sure he understood. "If I were trying to turn someone towards the darkness, making them relive their worst memories on repeat is where I would start."


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** You guys continue to be the best readers ever. Thank you for the reviews and follows and favorites! Hope you like the next part.

* * *

It was a weird day from the moment Emma woke up that morning. It was quiet … like something big was going to happen. Quiet and sad. Mommy was sniffling like Emma did when she needed to cry and Daddy hadn't said a single word, not even, "Good morning, little munchkin" when Emma climbed up on his and Mommy's big giant bed.

He _always_ said good morning to his little munchkin.

But he didn't this morning. He simply picked Emma up and brought her down to the kitchen for breakfast. Even breakfast was weird, though. Daddy usually made Emma fluffy eggs and a couple pieces of bacon but this morning he simply poured some Cheerios in a bowl, poured some milk in the cereal, and set the bowl in front of her while handing her a little spoon.

Mommy didn't come downstairs.

Emma didn't know what was wrong. She wanted to ask why she didn't get a fluffy egg for breakfast – she really liked fluffy eggs – and how come everyone seemed so sad but the look on Daddy's face kept her quiet.

She nibbled on her Cheerios while she watched Daddy sip a cup of coffee and stare out the window. Daddy only looked out the window like that when something was wrong. He looked out the window like that when he found out that his daddy had gone to heaven. When Emma finished all the cereal, she climbed out of the chair and stepped up to Daddy. After a moment, she tugged on his pant leg. "Are you sad today, Daddy?" she asked when he looked down at her.

He tried to give his little munchkin a smile but it was a sad kind of smile. He set his coffee cup down on the window sill and scooped Emma up instead, settling her on his hip. "Yes, Emma, I'm sad today."

"You should go on the swings," Emma told him sagely. "The swings always help me not be sad anymore."

She'd meant to help him feel better but her words only seemed to make him sadder. He closed his eyes and swallowed – Emma liked the way the bump in his throat moved up and down when he swallowed – and then set her back down on the ground. "I don't know if the swings are going to be enough today, Emma."

Then he stared out the window again.

Emma frowned. Why was everyone acting so weird today?

Mommy came downstairs then, Emma's little suitcase in one hand and Feddy, Emma's squishy gray teddy bear, in the other. His name was supposed to be Freddy but when Emma first got him, she couldn't make the R sound so it came out as Feddy instead.

Why was Mommy bringing down a suitcase? Were they going on a trip? Oh, maybe they were going to Castine again! Grammy and Grampy lived in Castine. Emma loved it there; she liked going to see the lighthouse.

"She'll be here any minute," Mommy murmured to Daddy. Emma could tell that Mommy had been crying.

Daddy nodded but didn't look away from the window.

Who was going to be here? Was Grammy coming to take Emma to Castine all by herself? Maybe that was why Mommy and Daddy were so sad, because Emma was going with Grammy for a few days and they weren't.

Emma watched out the window with Daddy but it wasn't Grammy's car that pulled into the driveway behind Mommy's. It was Jenna's. Emma frowned. Jenna was just here yesterday! Jenna didn't normally come over two days in a row.

Emma liked Jenna. She would bring her little toys and she always asked all kinds of nice questions, like how Emma was doing and if she was happy living with Mommy and Daddy. She always wanted to know if Mommy and Daddy were nice to her and if they ever hurt her.

Mommy and Daddy were always nice to her and they never hurt her. Emma always made sure to tell Jenna that.

Jenna hadn't asked Emma those questions yesterday, though. She'd just talked to Mommy and Daddy. Maybe that was why she was back today! Maybe she realized she'd forgotten to talk to Emma and ask her those questions.

Daddy went to go talk with Mommy and Jenna, telling Emma to stay put. A confused Emma stayed put until Jenna crouched down in front of her. She stepped forward, expecting Jenna to ask her questions, but Jenna didn't ask her questions. Instead she handed her Feddy and said, "Come on, pumpkin, we have to go."

Go? Go where? Was Jenna bringing her all the way to Castine to see Grammy?

When Emma asked that very question, Mommy started crying and Daddy turned to look out the window again. Jenna swallowed hard and blinked a few times. "No, Emma," she said gently. "We have to bring you to a different home."

A different home? "Are we moving?" But they'd only packed Emma's suitcase. What about Mommy and Daddy? Why weren't they moving, too?

And Jenna and Mommy and Daddy all tried to explain. There was a baby in Mommy's tummy and Mommy and Daddy didn't have the room or the money for both Emma and the baby but Emma still didn't understand. Crying, she dropped Feddy and ran to Mommy and clung to her leg. She said that she was sorry for all the times she spilled her milk and juice and she would be really, really good.

But it didn't matter.

Jenna pried Emma from Mommy's leg and scooped her up into her arms. Mommy was crying, too. So was Daddy. Emma squirmed, trying to get down, but Jenna held her tight and carried her out to her car. Daddy followed them to the car with Feddy and Emma's suitcase but Mommy stopped walking just outside the front door. While Jenna buckled a squirming, crying Emma into the car seat, Daddy put Emma's little suitcase in the trunk.

He leaned into the car to give her Feddy. "I'm so sorry, Emma," he said, tears in his eyes. Then he stood up straight and Jenna closed the door and got into the car herself.

Emma cried as Jenna started the car. Emma cried as they pulled away from the house. She cried when she saw Mommy crying by the door. She cried when she saw Daddy crying as he stood on the sidewalk. She cried as she watched Daddy and Mommy and the house grow smaller and smaller until they turned onto another street and she couldn't see them anymore.

Jenna was crying, too. Emma could hear her.

Emma cried and cried, hugging Feddy, until she couldn't cry anymore. And when she stopped crying, she looked at Feddy. Then she got really, really mad and threw him down on the car floor. Mommy and Daddy have given her Feddy. If they didn't want her anymore, she didn't want him anymore, either.

* * *

Snow White was exceedingly surprised when a cloud of purple smoke suddenly appeared in her living room. That surprise quickly gave way to concern and panic when the smoke cleared to reveal both Regina and Hook, who was carrying her unconscious baby girl in his arms. "What happened?!" she cried, settling baby Neal in his bassinet before dashing over to her apartment's sudden new occupants.

"Maleficent cast a spell," Regina said quickly. "Hook can fill you in. I have to get back – _now_ – before they discover I'm gone."

And with that, she disappeared in another cloud of purple smoke, just as quickly as she had come.

Snow was left staring at the empty space, her head spinning. What on earth was going on?

Though Charming was clearly just as confused as she was, he'd managed to take the reins. He gestured for Hook to lie Emma down in his and Snow's bedroom. When Hook nodded an agreement, he and Snow followed.

Though they were both bursting with questions, they managed to wait until Hook had gently set Emma down on the mattress and draped a quilt over her. Once satisfied that Emma was all right – or as all right as she could be at the moment, Snow supposed – their need for questions finally won out. "What the hell is going on?" Charming asked, his concern making his voice tight.

And so Hook recounted his and Emma's evening, starting with Emma's need to clear her head with a walk along the docks. He explained how they'd run into Cruella and Maleficent and how the two women had knocked him out with a sleeping spell. And he explained about the second sleeping spell, the one that had trapped Emma in a nightmare world from which she couldn't awake.

The one that could very well be the first step to turning Emma towards the darkness.

Snow's heart clenched in her chest and tears welled in her eyes. Her poor baby girl.

"Regina says that the antidote will take effect as soon as she allows it to do so," Hook finally finished, nodding his head in Emma's direction. "But until then ..."

"We wait," Charming finished for him.

Hook nodded solemnly. "Aye."

Snow felt sick to her stomach. Her poor baby girl was trapped in this nightmare world, trapped in her worst memories come to life. And there was nothing they could do about it.

No, not nothing. If the antidote would work when Emma let her subconscious defenses down …

Hook eased down on the foot of the bed by Emma's feet while Charming pulled the chair closer to his daughter's bedside, both of them needing to be near her. Snow crawled onto the empty side of the bed and lay down next to Emma, propping herself up on one elbow so she could see her daughter's face. Emma's brow was pinched, telling Snow that her dreams – _memories_ – had already started. There was no telling how many of them she'd relived by now.

Snow took her baby's limp hand, her thumb automatically running over the back of it as if by muscle memory. "Emma, sweetheart, you're safe now. No one's going to hurt you, not while I'm here."

Nothing.

However, before Snow had the chance to become discouraged, Charming said, "That's a wonderful idea. Gentle touches and words of comfort in familiar voices may help her to subconsciously realize that she's home."

"Regina mentioned something about familiar smells as well," Hook added.

Snow exchanged a glance with her wonderful husband and knew in an instant that they were both on the same page. "I'll get the cocoa started," he said with a nod. Snow smiled at him, equal parts adoration and gratitude.

Henry, who'd come down from the loft when he heard the commotion, was standing at the doorway as if afraid to enter any further. He was anxiously switching his weight from one foot to the other and the expression on his face was one of pure panic.

It struck Snow then that the poor boy had never seen his mother like this. He wasn't there when she leaped off the rail of the _Jolly Roger_ in Neverland and he'd thankfully only been present for the aftermath of the ice cave.

Considering the amount of danger in Storybrooke, they'd done well to keep Henry from seeing the effects of it for so long.

Hook must have recognized Henry's inner turmoil as well because he tore himself from Emma's side, slung a comforting arm around the boy's shoulders, and ushered him from the room.

For the moment, Snow was left alone with her unconscious daughter. She could see tears forming between her baby's eyelashes and the sight sent tears to Snow's own eyes. Her poor sweet baby girl had a lifetime of worst memories; any one of them could have been playing in her mind's eye at that very moment. Whatever she was seeing had clearly been enough to bring tears to her eyes.

Her poor daughter had grown up so alone and unloved, so neglected, so hurt. And this spell, this awful spell was going to force her to relive all of them, over and over again.

Snow tightened her hand around Emma's, hoping against hope that the physical touch would ground her. Any words she had kept getting lost in a sob so she began to hum the lilting melody of a lullaby her own mother used to sing to her. Snow had long ago forgotten the words but the tune remained etched her memory, a song her mother used to sing to help her fall asleep again after being awakened by a nightmare.

"You're safe now, Emma," she murmured when the song was done. "You're home."

No spell, no matter how potent, was going to keep Emma in its clutches for very long. Snow was going to see to that.


	3. Chapter 3

Having to focus on the cocoa was good for Charming. Watching the cocoa to make sure it didn't burn, stirring in the milk without boiling it … all of those little activities that went into preparing his family's favorite beverage kept his mind occupied. They kept him from thinking about his poor daughter, lying unconscious just behind him in the bedroom while a lifetime of horrible memories played in her mind's eye.

When the cocoa was ready, Charming focused on splitting the batch evenly among the five mugs. The air in the apartment smelled of the drink, warm and comforting, and he hoped against hope that the aroma was reaching his daughter's subconscious.

He focused on topping each mug with whipped cream and a dusting of cinnamon. He focused on arranging the mugs on a tray, making sure to evenly balance the weight for easier carrying. And then he focused on lifting the tray and carrying it to his second stop.

His first stop, of course, was a swing by the bassinet to check on little Neal. A tender smile pulled at Charming's lips at the sight of his son contently asleep, his little features serene and his little chest rising and falling with each soft breath.

If only his sister's sleep was as peaceful.

Charming then headed over to the couch where Hook and Henry were sitting, Henry scared and Hook trying his hardest to comfort him. Charming had to admit that the pirate was doing an impressive job of hiding his own panic for the boy's benefit. He was saying all the right things, too: "You're mother's a fighter, lad. She'll find her way back to us and she'll be perfectly fine when she does so."

Charming interrupted the little pep talk just long enough to deliver cocoa to both his grandson and the pirate. "Thanks, Grampa," Henry said, his voice small and trembling.

"You're welcome," Charming replied.

Hook gave him a nod as he accepted his mug, equal parts gratitude for the drink and reassurance that he would stay with Henry as long as the boy needed. Charming sent him a little grateful nod of his own and then continued on to bedroom, where his wife and his daughter lay waiting.

He'd been hoping that Emma would have awoken while he was making the cocoa – though clearly he would have known by now if she had. No such luck, however; she still was lying in the same position as when he'd left, on her back with her long hair fanned out on the pillow, one hand held tightly in her mother's on her stomach and her other arm straight against her side.

"Any change?" he murmured to Snow as he sat the cocoa tray down on the nightstand. It took him a moment to question why he was attempting to be quiet. After all, they wanted Emma to awaken.

A teary Snow looked up at him and shook her head. "This is killing me, Charming."

Only then did Charming see the faint tear stains on his baby's cheeks. Oh gods, whatever memories this spell was forcing her to relive had already started taking their emotional toll on her. Charming sank down in the chair by his daughter's bedside, wishing there was something – _anything_ – he could do. "We'll reach her, Snow," he said, injecting his voice with a confidence that he didn't quite feel.

Snow needed him to be strong. Snow needed him to be confident. And Emma … Emma needed both of her parents to not lose hope.

Snow met his eyes again and nodded wearily. Determination and perseverance only carried a worried parent so far. Charming's wonderful wife had been watching their baby girl cry in her sleep, all the while knowing that she couldn't simply shake her out of her nightmares. All the while knowing that when Emma did open her eyes, they wouldn't be able to soothe her by reminding her that her dreams were just that.

Because they weren't dreams. They were memories of real experiences their baby had lived through once and was being forced to live again.

Charming didn't know a lot about his little girl's childhood but with what little he did know, he could only imagine the havoc this spell was wreaking on Emma's emotions.

"How are Neal and Henry?" Snow asked, lightly running her thumb along the back of Emma's hand.

"Neal's sound asleep," Charming assured her. "Henry's scared, like all of us, but Hook's talking to him, telling him that his mom is a fighter and that she's going to come out of this soon, perfectly fine."

Snow smiled a little at that. "The pirate speaks the truth. She certainly is a fighter."

"And she is going to find her way back to us soon and she is going to be perfectly fine."

She smiled again, though this time it didn't quite reach her eyes. Their daughter's fighting spirit was a given but the strength of the spell, along with the amount of time she'd already been under it, had caused a niggling little voice of doubt in Snow. It wasn't that she doubted Emma; it was that she was worried, which kept raising the what-ifs for her.

The two of them sat in silence for a long beat, both of them sipping the cocoa and trying not to pay attention to the mug earmarked for Emma, sitting untouched. Then Snow asked, "What do you think she's seeing, Charming?"

Oh gods, he didn't want to even contemplate what she could be seeing. "I haven't the foggiest," he answered honestly, "but I do know that whatever it is, I wish she wasn't."

* * *

Some kids liked school and some kids hated school. Emma Swan _loathed_ school.

It wasn't so much school itself. She liked reading and she liked science and she even sorta kinda liked math. It was just that she was always the new kid and very few old kids ever liked the new kid.

Sometimes she'd get lucky and there would be another lonely kid in her class. Then she would at least have someone to sit with at lunch and play with at recess. But that was only sometimes.

Unfortunately for her, Mrs. Martin's second grade class was not one of those sometimes. Not that she could really blame the kids. She'd started here a month ago, in April. The school year was almost over; all of the kids in her class had already made their friends. No one was outright mean to her but no one went out of their way to include her, either, which hurt in its own way.

But whatever. Emma didn't need friends.

She used to bring books from the school library out to recess so she could read by herself but after a while, the other kids running around and playing with each other while ignoring her started to upset her. She ended up asking Mrs. Martin if she could stay inside at recess and read at her desk instead.

At first, Mrs. Martin had said no – because she needed to do other things while the kids were outside, she said – but after a couple of days, she pulled Emma aside and told her she could stay inside if she wanted. Emma didn't know what had made her change her mind but she'd smiled and said thank you anyway.

Normally she just read quietly while Mrs. Martin prepared the classroom for the next lesson. For some reason, today she set her book down and stepped up to the window. She could see a few girls from her class playing a game of foursquare at one end of the yard and some boys from her class racing each other on the monkey bars. There were kids on the swings and the seesaws and the slides and kids playing freeze tag and kids playing hopscotch and she wondered if any of them had even noticed that she'd stopped coming outside.

"Mrs. Martin?" she asked without turning away from the window.

"Yes, Emma?" a surprised Mrs. Martin responded. Emma very rarely said anything at all during the day, never mind during her self-imposed indoor recess periods.

Emma turned away from the window, wanting to watch Mrs. Martin's face when she asked her next question. "Is there something wrong with me?"

Now the teacher looked even more surprised. She stopped what she was doing and crouched down in front of Emma. "Of course not, Emma. What makes you think that?"

Emma shrugged, her eyes darting towards the window again. There had to be something wrong with her, didn't there? Her real parents hadn't wanted her. Her first family hadn't wanted her. None of the other families she'd stayed with had wanted her. Right now, she was living in a group home, living with a bunch of kids who came and went and watching families pass her over to take other little girls home instead. Even the kids at mostly every school didn't want to be her friend.

There _had_ to be something wrong with her.

Mrs. Martin followed Emma's gaze and a look of gentle comprehension came over her face. She reached for Emma's little hands, taking them in her own. "Emma, I want you to listen to me. There is nothing wrong with you. Somewhere out there is a family who wants you and will love you more than anything else in the whole world."

Emma wanted to believe that but she couldn't. "Why can't I find them, then? Why can't they find me?"

Now Mrs. Martin had tears in her eyes. "I don't know, honey, but I do know they're out there. You'll find them one day but until then, know this: there is _nothing_ wrong with you."

Though she wasn't at all convinced, Emma nodded. Something told her Mrs. Martin knew she didn't quite believe her but the teacher didn't push it. She simply stood up straight and, after a gentle squeeze of Emma's shoulder, went back to work.

Emma turned to look out the window again. Mrs. Martin was wrong. Something was clearly wrong with her. Why else would everyone ignore her? Why else had all those families given her away? Why else would no one want her?

* * *

Charming and Snow talked, not even bothering to lower their voices since they _wanted_ Emma to be able to hear them, while they finished their cocoa. Emma remained sound asleep. As a matter of fact, the only movement Charming had seen from her was the occasional wince. If he didn't know any better, he would think she was simply in a deep, peaceful slumber.

But he did know better. Her slumber was indeed deep – as the deepest ocean – but it was far from peaceful.

It was in the pinch of her brow and the wrinkle of her nose. It was in the occasional tear that leaked from her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. This spell was keeping her from doing the things that normally woke people from their nightmares. She couldn't kick her legs or squirm against the images she was seeing and she couldn't call out to stop them. Still, she was clearly feeling the effects of the memories and Charming wished more than anything in any world that he could bring her out of the spell himself.

But he couldn't. The only one who could bring Emma out of it was Emma.

That didn't mean, though, that he couldn't help her. He leaned forward in the chair and grasped her free hand. Gods, how he wished she would just open her eyes. _You can stop this, Emma_, he thought pleadingly. _You're the only one who can._

Snow's gentle babbling at their baby girl had yet to make a dent. She looked up at Charming, silently asking him to give it a try.

Charming nodded at her and tightened his hand around Emma's. "Hey, kiddo," he said to his sleeping daughter, the words coming to him from pure paternal instinct. "You're home now. You're safe. You're here with us and we really need you to wake up. Your little brother misses you." He met Snow's teary eyes with his own, his voice breaking as he continued. "_We_ miss you: your mom and me, Henry, and Hook."

"You have a whole family here waiting for you, Emma," Snow broke in, taking over for her husband because she knew it was becoming too hard for him to continue. "What you're seeing now … it's the past. Don't get lost in it. Please come back to the present."

At first, there was nothing.

And then there was a tiny glimmer of hope: Emma tightened her hand around Charming's.

He sat up straight, his eyes wide in wonder. Had she really just squeezed his hand? Not wanting to get his hopes up too much just in case what he'd felt was simply a twitching of Emma's muscles, he squeezed her hand back.

She reciprocated.

Charming looked to Snow, whose surprised expression was surely a mirror to his own. "You felt it, too?"

"She squeezed my hand," Snow answered, nodding in amazement.

For the first time since Regina and Hook had appeared in the living room with Emma, Charming smiled a real smile. Their baby girl had heard them. On some level, she'd heard them. Now all she had to do was fight past the emotions enough to let the antidote work.

"Come on, kiddo," Charming encouraged, smiling and refusing to let go of his daughter's hand. "You can do it. Come back to us."

Snow smiled as well. "We love you, sweetheart. I know you can find your way back to us."

Both mother and father felt rejuvenated, their worry and despair finally taking a backseat to hope. For the first time since Hook and Regina had brought her home, there was good reason to believe that the spell wouldn't win. They'd reached her; they'd broken through the spell. Now, with her family's help, of course, Emma just had to find her way home.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** To Guest who left the absolutely lovely review on the previous chapter: thank you very much! I try to keep the relationships balanced in these stories because the bonds between mother and daughter, father and daughter, and mother and son are incredibly important for the characters and fulfilling in different ways. The bond formed and continuing to deepen between Emma and Killian is just as important and fulfilling as well. Basically, I try to give everyone a "turn" because all of those relationships matter. There's definitely room enough in one story for everyone's love to shine through. :)

* * *

Emma Swan sat on the front steps of her school, elbows propped up on her knees and chin in her hands. It was late.

Well, it wasn't _late_ late, but it was late enough that she was pretty much the only kid still left on the premises. Even the kids who'd had to stay after school for extra help or to make up work were long gone. Heck, even some of the teachers had gone home for the evening.

And here Emma sat, waiting for her ride. She could have been at the house by now if she'd walked.

She glanced down at her watch and her heart sank. Her foster mother, Maureen, was almost forty minutes late. Maybe she'd gotten stuck in traffic or something. Not that there was a lot of traffic in this little town – like, seriously, town center consisted of a bank and the convenience store where Emma got Slush Puppies. But maybe there had been an accident or something that was tying up traffic between the school and the house.

_I'll give her another couple of minutes_, Emma thought. _Just another couple of minutes_.

She actually gave her ten. There was no sign of Maureen's white Taurus anywhere. It was official, then. Emma had been forgotten.

To her embarrassment, she felt hot tears pricking her eyes. _Stop it_, she commanded herself, swiping at her eyes and sniffling. This was _not_ worth getting upset over.

It wasn't like Maureen paid a lot of attention to her anyway. Emma had actually been shocked when Maureen told her she would pick her up after school today. She hadn't once offered to pick Emma up after school in the two and a half months Emma had been with the family.

Heaving a sigh, Emma pushed herself to her feet. Now she had to make the walk back to the house. It wasn't a long walk but she was almost an hour late as it was. Now she wasn't going to have time to get all her homework done before Jeremy, her foster father, got home from work. That wasn't going to go over well at all.

Just as she stepped off the stoop, she heard someone behind her calling her name. She turned around to see her teacher, Mrs. Drummond, hurrying out of the school. She had her coat on and her briefcase in her hand; clearly, she was going home for the night, too. "Why are you hanging around so late?" the woman asked, her voice friendly but slightly concerned. "Is everything all right?"

"Yeah," Emma replied, then caught herself. Mrs. Drummond was a little old-fashioned and didn't allow the children in her class to answer with the informal "yeah." Emma liked her; she was strict but she cared and she was a much better sixth-grade teacher than the one Emma had at her last school. "I mean, yes. I just thought I was getting a ride today. I must have heard wrong or something."

Emma could tell from the gentle understanding on Mrs. Drummond's face that the teacher knew the mistake hadn't been her student's. The woman hesitated a moment and then took Emma's hand and led her to the swings in the school yard. Emma followed her, confused. What the teacher did next shocked Emma more than anything: she set her briefcase on the ground against one of the swing set's poles, sat down on a swing, and nodded for Emma to sit next to her.

She did so, solely out of curiosity. No one in her class would believe her if she said she saw Mrs. Drummond sitting on a swing. Most of the kids were convinced she'd been born an adult. What on earth was this staid, strict teacher doing?

"Emma, you know you can come to me with any problems you're having, right?"

Emma nodded, still confused.

"Is everything okay at home?"

And there it was, the pity that everyone who knew of Emma's circumstances couldn't help but feel. The pity that Emma typically couldn't stand. "Everything's fine," she said, unable to stop the hard edge that had crept into her voice.

She started to stand – because she _really_ needed to get going if she was going to have even a fraction of her homework done before Jeremy got home – but Mrs. Drummond's voice stopped her. "If there's anything I can do to help, please let me know."

Somehow, out of Mrs. Drummond, it came across more as concern than pity. Emma stayed put, staring across the yard at the old brick school building. She wanted so badly to believe that the teacher could help but years of experience had taught her that no one could. All that would end up happening was Emma would be removed from Maureen and Jeremy – probably with Jenna citing that it just "wasn't a good fit" – and she would have to start all over again somewhere else.

She was _tired_ of starting all over again. Tired of getting her hopes up only to have them dashed when things ultimately didn't work out, tired of being the new kid everywhere she went, tired of well-meaning teachers noticing the bruises and the neglect only for it to start again somewhere else.

At this point, Emma was just counting down the days until her eighteenth birthday, when she would age out of this crap and be the master of her own destiny.

"I know you want to help," Emma said to Mrs. Drummond, "but you can't. No one can because it's not just them. It's everywhere I've ever been."

Emma had expected the news that this wasn't her first rodeo to surprise the teacher but it didn't. Instead, she looked just as weary as Emma herself. "I don't know," Emma said, shrugging lamely, "maybe it's just me."

"No, Emma, it's not you," Mrs. Drummond said forcefully. "You're a very intelligent, amazing, lovely young lady and anyone would be lucky to have you in their family. Someday, you will find people who realize how lucky they are to have you in their life."

Another conversation with another teacher tugged at Emma's memory banks, another conversation very similar to this back when she was younger. Back when she still sorta kinda hoped that family was in the cards for her.

"Maybe someday," she allowed, though she didn't really believe it, "but not today." Then she stood up from the swing and shrugged on her backpack. "Thanks for trying to help."

And then she turned and started on the walk back to the house, leaving a saddened Mrs. Drummond on the swing, staring after her in concerned thought.

* * *

Henry had finished his cocoa a while ago but he hadn't yet worked up the energy to put his mug in the sink for washing. He just stared into the empty mug, lost in his thoughts.

He just couldn't get over how _still_ his mom had been. He shared a room with her; he knew how she slept. She was somewhat restless at first, tossing and turning until she got comfortable. Then she relaxed and stopped moving as she slipped deeper into sleep. But even in the middle of the night when her sleep was the deepest, she was never as still as she was right now.

Henry believed in his heart of hearts that she was going to be just fine but he was still scared. _Really_ scared.

Killian slipped the mug from his hand, startling him out of his reverie. The pirate gave him a small smile before standing up to take both mugs to the sink. He ran some water to let the mugs soak and then returned to the sofa with Henry.

"She's going to be all right, lad," Killian assured him for what must have been the hundredth time.

Not that Henry was complaining. He needed to hear it all hundred times. "I know." His eyes drifted towards the doorway of his grandparents' room. He wanted to go see her but he didn't want to see her, if that made any sense. Like, he wanted to be with her but the sight of her lying unconscious under a spell like that scared him. It reminded him of when his grandfather went under the sleeping spell and …

Wait a minute. When Charming had gone under the sleeping spell, Henry had sat with him and read from the storybook. He'd been brave then, swallowing his fear to help his grandfather. And after everything he'd been through since then – his family fighting and Neverland and the flying monkeys and all that – he could certainly be brave now and swallow his fear again, this time to help his mom. "Killian?"

"Yes, lad?"

"Do … do you think it would help if I went in there and talked to her?"

A proud smile curled on the pirate's lips, as if he'd been waiting for Henry to come to that very conclusion. "Aye. I think that would help a great deal."

Henry nodded but before he could push himself to his feet, his grandmother emerged from the bedroom. Fear instantly gripped Henry's heart but then he noticed that Snow was smiling. "She squeezed our hands," she said softly, relief shining in her eyes.

A breath Henry hadn't even been aware he was holding escaped his lips. If his mom had squeezed her parents' hands, did that mean she was fighting the spell, trying to come back to them? Both he and Killian were up in a flash, following Snow back into the bedroom.

Henry hesitated in the doorway again the second he caught sight of Emma. He _really_ didn't like seeing her like that. It took him a moment but after again resolving to be brave, he stepped forward and eased down on the bed next to his grandmother. Charming was still seated in the chair by her head, and Killian sat down at the bottom of the bed by Emma's feet, his back against the footboard.

Despite everything, Henry smiled. Not so long ago, he and his mom had both been alone and now they had all these people in their lives.

If Henry understood right, this spell was making her relive her worst memories, which meant it was making her feel alone. He just needed to help her realize that those memories were just that – memories.

Because she certainly wasn't alone anymore. She had her family surrounding her, waiting for her to wake up.

He noticed that Charming had a tight grip on Emma's hand. Her other hand was resting on her stomach. Henry glanced from her free hand to Snow, silently asking if he should do the same thing as his grandfather. Snow nodded proudly. "Go on, Henry. I think she's been waiting to hear from you."

After taking a deep breath, Henry wrapped his hand around hers. "Hey, Mom."

Nothing happened. He glanced up at his grandmother again and she gave him another encouraging nod. Henry swallowed hard and continued. "Mom, you're not in danger anymore. You're home with us and we miss you."

His voice faltered a bit on his last word. Okay, that was _way_ too emotional. Emma didn't do emotional. He swallowed again and tried a different tactic. "You're missing hot chocolate with cinnamon, you know. And it's almost dinnertime." Everyone smiled at that, Killian included, which gave Henry courage. "Gramma said we could make our own sundaes for dessert. So, see? You _have_ to wake up. You're going to miss sundaes if you don't! And besides, we really, really miss you. Please wake up, Mom. I know you can do it. Please come back to us. Please come back to _me_."

He swore he saw her flinch. Then her hand tightened around his. Henry looked up at his grandparents and Killian, his eyes wide in amazement. She _could_ hear him! And he knew in an instant that she _was_ fighting, fighting as hard as she could to find her way out of her memories.

Henry leaned forward and dropped a gentle kiss on her forehead, the same way she used to when he was sick. Well, not really, because those memories were pretend but they felt real and they both shared them, so the point still stood. "I love you, Mom."

Once again, she tightened her grip on his hand, and finally, Henry smiled. In the only way she could at the moment, she'd told him she loved him, too.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:** The beginning of this chapter is not Neal-friendly. (Baelfire!Neal, not baby Neal. ;)) Apologies if it upsets anyone but I couldn't do a story addressing Emma's worst memories and not include this bit. Also because I feel like I haven't said it in a while: y'all rock. :)

* * *

Emma Swan had been many things in her life. A parentless little girl no one ever really saw. A pretty good student despite the unstable nature of her education. A runaway. An almost little sister. A survivor.

Yeah, she was many things but never in a million years would she have thought she would someday have to add "patsy" to that list. Never in a million years … until tonight.

How the hell could she have been so _stupid_? She _loved_ him and she really thought … she really thought that he loved her, too. Apparently not, though. Apparently all that talk about home and Tallahassee was just that, talk to draw her in. A ruse to get her to take the fall for him.

Had _any_ of it been real? Had he played her from the get-go or had he just taken this opportunity to dump her like everyone else had?

_God,_ she was so stupid. She leaned the side of her head against the cop car window, punctuating each silent "stupid" with a tap. Stupid, stupid, _stupid_.

The back seat of a cop car was ridiculously uncomfortable. No padding of any kind, just a hard plastic seat. It probably made the seat easier to clean when some drunk puked on it but it didn't exactly make for a smooth, comfortable ride. She felt every single bump the car drove over. And if that wasn't enough, the handcuffs were cold and digging into her wrists. The price of being a criminal, Emma supposed.

Buildings passed by her window in a dark blur but Emma didn't even see them. She was looking inward instead, running every single one of their interactions through her head and trying to figure out where the hell it all went wrong.

Emma had a pretty decent internal lie detector. As a kid, she'd been able to tell relatively quickly which foster families were the decent ones and which ones had just learned to say what the social workers wanted to hear. She'd learned that people generally gave off their lies with little subconscious tics … averting their eyes or twitching their lips. That kind of thing. And the thing with Neal was he'd never given off any tells. Not about this. Oh, he'd given off tells galore every time they ventured close to discussing his past but hey, her past wasn't exactly orange juice and sunshine, either, so she'd never pushed it.

How the hell had she been so damn _wrong_ about him?

The cruiser eased to a stop at a red light. The officer driving, the one who'd cuffed her, spared a glance up at her in the rear view mirror. "It would help you a great deal if you told us where he's headed."

Emma turned her head to stare out the window, mostly to hide the tears that were pricking her eyes. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the officer nod to himself. He'd figured it out, then. She wasn't refusing to give him an answer to protect Neal Cassidy. She was refusing to answer because she didn't know.

She _didn't know_.

Was he on his way to Tallahassee right now? Or maybe he'd fled to Canada after all.

They made the rest of the trip to the police station in silence. What followed was a surreal series of events that Emma went through mostly in a daze. They took her information, her fingerprints, her mug shots. They asked her questions about the watch she had on her wrist when she was arrested – it had since been bagged as evidence – and questions about the original theft. She told them what she knew but she had to answer what felt like far too many of their questions with "I don't know."

The police must have been satisfied enough with her answers because they took her from the interrogation room and led her to a holding cell. She jumped as the door clanged into place behind her. After surveying what was clearly to be her room for the night, Emma sat down on the cot, pulling her feet onto the thin mattress and hugging her knees to her chest.

"What are you in for, honey?"

Emma looked up. That was a question she'd assumed only got asked on TV shows. The voice belonged to an older woman in the next cell. If Emma had to guess, she'd put her in her late thirties but she was clearly in for drug-related reasons so she was probably younger than she looked. "I thought we were going to make a home together," she said numbly. "I was wrong."

"Left you holding?"

Emma nodded.

The woman clucked her tongue in sympathy. "He ain't worth it, honey. Anyone who would do that to a kid like you … he ain't worth it."

Yeah, Emma knew that now. She just wish she'd known it before. This morning, she'd felt like the entire world was at her fingertips. The entire world was hers and Neal's for the taking. And now … now she was left nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

* * *

Killian Jones was thrilled beyond words that Emma seemed to be responding to her family's voices. Her responses may simply have been light squeezes of their hands but those light squeezes were enough to prove that on some level, she could hear them.

On some level, she was listening. Now all she had to do was hear enough and listen enough to lower her magical defenses.

Wait a moment.

All she had to do was lower her magical defenses … which none of them had told her to do. They'd called to her, talked to her, told her she was safe, told her she was home, told her she was no longer in any danger, told her to come home. But none of them had told her how to come home; none of them had given her an explanation or direct instruction.

It was abundantly clear that the spell still had her tightly in its clutches. Oh, Swan was fighting tooth and nail to free herself. That much was certain but the spell was holding strong. Emma, however, had a secret weapon: the antidote already in her system. She just needed to know firstly that it was there at all and secondly how to access it.

Killian shifted forward on the bed, suddenly anxious. She needed to know. She needed to know that she had the power to free herself from the nightmare world she found herself in, her worst memories brought to light and life.

The prince frowned at Killian's sudden movement. Killian's anxiety must have been written across his features because after sparing another glance at his sleeping daughter's face, he set her hand back down on the mattress and nodded to the reformed pirate.

Killian blinked in surprise. "My thanks, mate," he said, nodding to the prince. Then he took Emma's hand in his own, his thumb rubbing back and forth over the back of her hand.

He took a moment to look her over. Her eyelashes were wet and heavy with tears. Gods, how he wished he could drag her from the memories himself. Whatever memory she was trapped in at the moment was clearly the worst of the worst. The tears leaking from her eyes had started coming more frequently.

"Emma, love," Killian murmured to her after swallowing the lump in his throat. Gods, it killed him to see her like this, to imagine what she was seeing and what she was feeling. "You're the only one who can stop the memories. It's a spell, love. Regina gave you the antidote for it but your own magic is blocking it from taking effect. You have to lower your magical defenses for the antidote to work, Swan. You're safe now and no one is going to hurt you."

At first, it seemed as if he hadn't broken through the spell; she remained still even as more tears trickled down her cheeks. But then, he felt it, a tightening of her fingers around his hand. His mouth turned up in a smile of relief and as he caught her mother's and son's eyes, they smiled back at him.

The knowledge that he'd reached her made him feel simultaneously like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders and giddy as a schoolboy. Killian squeezed her hand in return to let her know that he'd received her message. "That's it, Swan. We know you can hear us. You're safe, love; it's all right to lower your defenses. Nothing more is going to happen to you."

"You can do it, Mom," Henry chimed in, sharing a smile with Killian. "I know you can."

Another squeeze of Killian's hand. She must have squeezed the lad's as well because he looked up at Killian with a little lopsided grin that was equal parts joy and question. Killian nodded in reply to the silent query; yes, she'd squeezed his hand, too.

The prince and princess had clearly been unable to resist the urge to physically comfort their little girl. In absence of being able to hold her hands, Snow had taken to brushing her index finger down her cheek while David traced light circles on her forehead with his thumb. They were simple comforting gestures any parent would use to soothe an upset child but Killian couldn't help but smile at the thought of how embarrassed Emma would be if she could see them all surrounding her like this.

"Please come home, Emma," Snow murmured to her daughter.

"We need you to come home," David added.

And then Emma Swan squirmed. After her utter stillness under the spell, the simple shift under the blanket was enough to make everyone sit back in surprise. The prince and princess removed their hands from her face, startled, and Killian and Henry let go of her hands to allow her a bit of freedom in case she tried to move again.

To their disappointment, she didn't try to move again. A moment later, however, she did the most glorious thing of all: she opened her eyes.

She sat up violently, scrabbling back against the headboard and grasping the blanket Killian had draped over her to hold in front of herself as if in protection. Her breath was coming out in ragged pants and her eyes darted around the room as if she were trying desperately – and failing – to get her bearings.

Killian's heart simultaneously pounded and ached. This wasn't the spell. This, he knew, was the aftermath. This was what happened when one woke from a world in which one had to relive every awful moment one had ever experienced, in bright, vivid detail.

He wanted to approach her to calm her but he didn't want to frighten her further. Henry shifted away from her to give her space, inching closer to Killian instead. The prince sat back in the chair, also giving his daughter the space to come around.

It was what Emma ordinarily would have wanted, space. But mothers, apparently, knew when a child's needs outweighed a child's wants.

For it was Snow who remained, Snow who gingerly reached out a hand to brush her daughter's hair out of her eyes. The princess was both frightened for and aching for her daughter but she remained strong and when she spoke, none of the fear swimming in her eyes came through in her tone. "It's over now, Emma. You're safe now."

Emma whipped her head around in the direction of the voice. For a brief moment, she showed no recognition whatsoever but then she squinted at her mother, as if she wasn't sure she could believe her own eyes. Snow continued to murmur her words of comfort: "It's over now. You're safe now."

Slowly, the confusion and pain on Emma's face faded away. Shining tears replaced the wild frenzy in her eyes as she melted into her mother's embrace.

A stunned Snow just held her. Killian exchanged a nervous glance with David and Henry, all of them entirely unsure as to whether this was a good development.

After a moment or two, Emma seemed to come back to herself. She pulled out of her mother's arms as she sat up straight, sniffling back the rest of her tears. She glanced around the room, her face finally registering recognition. Then, as she locked eyes with Killian, she frowned. "Wait a sec, weren't we at the docks? How the hell did we get here?"

Killian let out a heavy breath, smiling in relief. His Swan was back.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:** You didn't really think it was going to be quite that easy, did you? O:)

* * *

"It was a spell," Snow was saying but all Emma could think about was the spelling test she'd failed in fourth grade. It was the first – and only – test she'd ever failed and she'd been so disappointed in herself that she cried when she got it back. Her foster parents at the time had been particularly hard on her, sending her to bed without dinner three nights in a row as punishment. Her stomach ached at the mere remembrance of her middle of the night hunger, pain that had been lost to time now as intense as the day it happened.

Emma tried to come back to the present – because she wasn't ten years old anymore and she hadn't just failed a spelling test and she would not go to bed without dinner – but her head was spinning. She didn't know what time it was. She didn't even really know what day it was. There was too much running through her head, too many memories so real and vivid it was as if they'd just happened yesterday.

She'd learned a long time ago that time didn't necessarily heal all wounds, at least not without leaving some scars. But time did have a dulling effect on the pain of those wounds and that dulling effect had suddenly been ripped from her.

There were things she'd thought of only on occasion, usually when she was already feeling down. There were things she'd completely forgotten because she'd been so little, so young. And now … now she felt every single ounce of pain she'd ever felt in her entire life.

She felt the confusion and anger her three-year-old self had felt when the only parents she'd ever known sent her away. She felt every single sting of her slapped face, every single lonely ache of being ignored and forgotten, every single disappointment over wishes that never came true, every single heartbreak.

"Regina says the spell was kind of an intermediate step between the sleeping spell they cast on Hook and the sleeping curse." Snow was still talking. She sounded far away, as if she were talking to Emma across a great distance. Which was weird, because Emma was sitting right next to her. "Regardless of it being an intermediate, Regina said it's a particularly … Emma?"

Emma blinked at her mother, once again trying to come back to the present. "Yeah?"

The concern swimming in Snow's eyes made Emma wince. "Are you all right?"

Emma nodded absently before allowing her gaze to travel the room. David had gone to check on a fussing Neal but both Killian and Henry had remained seated on the bed with her and Snow. They both looked worried – Henry looked downright scared, actually – and she forced a smile for everyone's benefit. "I'm fine."

It was quite obvious that none of them believed her in the slightest.

David stepped back into the room then with a whimpering and squirming little Neal in his arms. A sudden burst of rage flared through Emma at the sight of the baby. She was sent back because there was a baby in Mommy's tummy.

Only when she felt her magic warming up did she remember she was twenty-nine years old, not three, and she wasn't being sent anywhere. _That was twenty-six years ago_, she reminded herself to cool the livid magical fire within her, _and Mom and Dad aren't the ones who gave me back_.

A mother always knows when and how her child needs her, and Snow was no exception. She reached out, took Emma's hand in her own, and squeezed. And all of a sudden, Emma's head cleared. She was firmly in the present, the confusion instantly dissipating. It was Wednesday and it was dangerously close to dinnertime, if the dying ambient light in the room was anything to go by.

Emma could see clearly now, and the sheer amount of concern on her family's faces made her heart sink in her chest. "You said it was a spell?" she said to Snow.

Though Emma could tell Snow was still worried about her, she followed her daughter's lead without question. "Yes. Maleficent cast it on you when you and Hook ran into her and Cruella at the docks. Regina made you an antidote but you were blocking it with your own magic. We had to wait for you to lower your magical defenses so you would come out of it."

It may have been just a spell but it had been a freakin' doozy of a spell. It had all felt so _real_. Those memories hadn't felt like memories. It had felt like she was living those moments all over again, feeling everything as if it were the first time. And the worst part was she'd felt just as powerless to stop them under the spell as she had when she was living it all the first time.

Neal's whimpering grew louder. David, who was bouncing his son in his arms to no avail, shot his daughter an apologetic look before addressing his wife. "Snow, he's hungry."

Snow darted her gaze between her two children, torn. Her baby boy needed her … but so did her baby girl.

Emma swallowed hard and squeezed her mother's hand, giving her permission to go. Her brother needed to eat; she'd be fine for a few minutes.

A gentle smile tugged at Snow's lips as she squeezed her daughter's hand in return. "I'll be right back," she murmured, letting her touch linger as she stood to take her son upstairs to nurse him.

As soon as Snow let Emma's hand go, the memories came rushing back, threatening to drown her. She was being left again. She was being sent away. She didn't understand why no one wanted her. She didn't understand why she wasn't enough. All she knew was that it kept happening and she was getting _angry._

"Emma, love."

A pleasantly accented voice. _Killian's_ voice. He was trying to capture her attention but all she could see was Neal Cassidy shrugging the duffel bag onto his shoulder and reminding her of the meeting place and time. As if she could forget the place and time they would begin the rest of their lives. She told him she'd be there and then watched as he walked away, a smile on his face. A smile she'd thought was due to his excitement for their future. Over the years, Emma had wondered many, many times if she'd misread that smile. Maybe he'd simply been satisfied with the knowledge that he would get away clean.

"Mom? Can you hear me?"

A young boy's voice, hesitant and tentative. She heard his questions but then all she could hear was a seconds-old baby crying, a tiny baby boy she refused to even look at because if she did, she would never want to let him out of her sight ever again. And that couldn't happen. She couldn't be a mother, not from jail, not with no idea how the hell to even _be_ a mother. She didn't have parents of her own, anyone whose behavior to emulate. God, she'd screw up a kid so damn bad. She wanted better for her kid than she had and so she couldn't look at him because if she looked at him, she'd want to keep him, and she couldn't keep him.

"Emma!"

Her dad's voice that time. In her mind's eye, she saw a man looming over her little six-year-old self. Her foster father, who was really fun when he wasn't drinking adult drinks but really scary when he was. He was yelling at her to stop crying this instant or she would be going into the closet. The closet was really small and it was dark and Emma hated it because sometimes he left her in there for a lot longer than he said he was going to. One time he'd left her in there so long that she'd missed dinner and bedtime and then breakfast and even school the next day.

Hands gripped hers and the memory broke. She blinked, the remnants of the memory drifted away, and she could see clearly again. She was back in the present, sitting on her parents' bad, her son tightly grasping her right hand and her dad's hand just as tightly wrapped around her left.

All three of them – David, Henry, and Killian – looked petrified. She could feel the warmth of her magic running through her veins and her panicked gaze darted around the room, searching for evidence that she'd done something she didn't realize. "I … I didn't hurt any of you, did I?"

"No," all three of them said in unison, rushing to reassure her.

She let out a heavy breath. Thank God.

"What's happening, Mom?" a still scared Henry asked.

"I … I don't really know. I keep getting lost in the memories ..."

"Unless someone is touching you," Killian breathed, his eyes widening in realization. "When your mother grasped your hand earlier, you were able to break free of the memories. And you did the same just now when your father and lad took your hands. It's as if the physical contact is behaving as an anchor for you."

Emma blinked at him. She supposed it was. The contact did seem to keep her grounded in reality, seem to keep the memories from consuming her.

David nodded in understanding. "I should get a hold of Regina, ask her how long we can expect this to go on. I don't care if we have to hold your hand for the next three days, you're not getting lost in those memories again."

After a nod to Henry, a silent instruction not to let go, David tried to slip his hand from his daughter's. Without an inkling as to where the instinct was coming from, Emma shook her head and tightened her grip on his hand.

"Kiddo, my phone's in the living room. I'm just going to run and grab it. I promise I'll come right back."

"No," Emma insisted, though she had no freakin' clue why. What her dad was saying made absolute, perfect sense. They needed answers, the only way to get in touch with someone who could give them answers was for someone to use his or her phone, and none of the phones were in the bedroom. David _had_ to go.

"I'll retrieve your talking phone," Killian said to David, already starting to stand.

Emma wanted to protest but he gave a gentle touch to her knee and then was out of the room before she had a chance to even open her mouth.

Her son's shaking hand tightened around hers. "Mom? Are you okay?"

Emma exchanged a nervous glance with her father. As of this very moment, she wasn't quite sure. Still, she forced a smile for her kid's benefit and said, "Yeah, kid, I'm okay."

She just hoped that was true.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note:** This chapter kinda ran away from me a bit. Oops?

* * *

Drifting in and out of terrible, painful memories had clearly shaken Charming's baby girl to her core. She was putting up a brave front for Henry's sake – and really, she was doing a decent job of it – but Charming could see the fear just behind her eyes and he could feel her hand trembling in his.

Gods, this was the worst feeling in the world. He wanted to do something – _anything_ – to help her but without knowing exactly what was happening beyond the spell still somehow working on her despite the antidote and her wakefulness, the task was impossible. So he did the only thing he knew was helping even a little bit and that was hold his daughter's hand tightly.

"You doing okay, kiddo?" he asked her softly.

She nodded.

Charming kept his eyes on her, watching to make sure she wasn't slipping into memory despite the physical contact with him and Henry. So far, the contact seemed to be the key, as if the physical connection kept her tied to the here and now. That, however, was not a permanent solution, a fact that was in the back of everyone's minds.

Hook returned with Charming's phone in record time. He handed it over before reclaiming his seat at the foot of the bed and tentatively resting his hand on Emma's knee. Charming's overprotective dad hackles would have ordinarily been raised at the sight but he was too preoccupied with Emma's current predicament to do anything about it. Plus, he figured the more contact, the better.

Since one of his hands was still captured by his daughter's, Charming used the thumb of his free hand to navigate to his contact list.

"No," Emma spoke up, her voice insistent. "Don't call her. Text her."

Oh, right. In his concern, Charming had almost forgotten about maintaining Regina's cover. After giving his daughter a sheepish nod, he navigated to his message list instead and set the phone on his knee to type a quick, one-handed message to Regina.

_Text messaging certainly goes much faster when I can use both thumbs_, he thought as he fumbled with the phone. He finally got his message typed out and touched Send. Now, there was nothing to do but wait.

It seemed as if it took an eternity. The tense silence in the room didn't help, of course. Snow returned after a few minutes with a finally calm Neal. Everyone's tension must have been written across their faces because the second she stepped into the room, her own face fell. "What's wrong?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Charming noticed Emma visibly tense at the baby's arrival. He'd noticed it earlier, too, when he brought Neal into the room after the baby's nap. That had to be an effect of the spell because Emma adored her baby brother. He tightened his grip around her hand in a silent show of comfort before addressing Snow's question. "We have a little problem ..."

If one counted Emma not being able to stay in the present without someone holding her there as a _little_ problem. Frankly, Charming considered it quite a big problem but he wanted to ease Snow into the news.

He ended up not having a chance. All further discussion was interrupted by a cloud of dark purple smoke. The smoke cleared, leaving Regina standing in its place. "What are you _doing_ here?" Emma hissed.

Charming was taken aback by his daughter's tone. Had they lost her to a memory despite the contact with him, Henry, and Hook?

Regina, however, seemed to understand the reason for both the question and the tone. "They think I went to get some air," she explained, much to Emma's relief; she visibly relaxed at the news. "Which means I don't have a lot of time. What's been happening?"

"I think it might be quicker to show you," Emma said. She exchanged a glance with Hook, who, after a lingering moment, lifted his hand from her knee. Then she gave Henry as comforting a smile as she could, silently telling him it was okay to let go of her hand. He did so hesitantly and Charming noticed with a proud smile to himself that the boy kept his hand close to hers, ready to grab it again the second he was given the okay.

Then Emma turned her eyes to Charming and oh gods, he was going to have to let her go. He was going to have to let her get lost in an awful, painful memory that would feel just as fresh as the day it happened. He didn't want to – gods, he didn't want to – but he squeezed her hand to give her a final bit of comfort and then let go.

His poor baby's eyes clouded almost instantly. She was staring straight ahead, seemingly at the doorway, but Charming knew she didn't see it at all. Her gaze was focused inward, on some awful scene that none of them could see.

An absolutely heartbreaking whimper escaped Emma's lips. And then … then Charming heard her very young, very scared voice whisper, "Don't make me go, Daddy."

Oh gods, this was absolute _torture_. He longed to grasp his baby's hand and pull her out of the memory but he knew he couldn't. Regina needed to see what was happening if they were to have any hope of stopping it.

For a long, torturous moment, Regina observed Emma's total immersion in the memory. She called her name in an effort to capture attention but just as before, it was as if Emma hadn't even heard her. Tears leaked from Emma's eyes and sparks began to shoot from her hands, at which point a wide-eyed Regina placed her own hand on Emma's knee.

Watching Emma come back to reality was nothing short of amazing. The sparks instantly stopped and clarity returned to her eyes a second later. She released a breath Charming hadn't even seen or heard her take. She reached a hand up to dry her eyes, a light pink flush of embarrassment coloring her cheeks.

Charming's eyes shot to Snow, who was still standing beside him holding Neal. She looked utterly shell-shocked. He reached a hand up and grasped her arm, giving her a comforting

little smile when she met his gaze. She gave him the same little smile in return.

Regina nodded at both Charming and Henry, silently telling them to grasp Emma's hands again. Once they did so, she removed her hand from Emma's knee. "The aftereffects of this spell are … difficult. I was hoping we'd caught it early enough to avoid the worst of it but apparently we didn't. This spell called up a multitude of dead and buried emotions for you, Emma; that is its true purpose. The deep sleep is simply the vehicle by which it accomplishes this purpose. There's a reason time and distance from the event allow that pain to deaden and there's a reason our mind blocks out and allows us to forget some things. Feeling those buried emotions all at once …"

She spared a glance at Henry. Charming could tell that she was torn between wanting to sugarcoat the news for the boy's sake and wanting to make sure everyone else understood the seriousness of the situation. She settled for giving Henry a little comforting smile before refocusing her attention on Emma. "It's enough to destroy someone."

The words hit Charming right in the gut. A vise gripping his heart, he shared a teary but determined glance with his wife. Neither one of them was going to allow some spell to destroy their beautiful, precious baby girl.

Hook had dropped his gaze to Emma at Regina's words and Henry had inched closer to her, as if trying to protect her in any way he could. It was Emma who took a breath, set her shoulders, and asked, "Do you know how long this is going to last?"

Regina gave her an apologetic smile. "I'm afraid that depends on you and your family, Miss Swan. You need to get these emotions back to a place where they're manageable for you and your family needs to keep you from getting lost in the memories. Correct me if I'm wrong but when you get stuck in a memory, you feel exactly the way you felt the day it happened."

"That's right."

"Emotions aren't rational; that's the whole point of this. And that irrationality has the potential to be very dangerous, especially when it's a memory from your childhood. Children don't have the maturity to temper their emotions. If a child is angry, she's _angry_, and her first instinct is to lash out because she doesn't know know of any other emotional outlet."

Emma's eyes widened in understanding. "That's why my magic started ramping up during the memories."

"Yes. You're lashing out just like a scared, angry child, only unlike when you were a child, you now can access magic that can do some pretty heavy damage when left unchecked. I do believe you have at least some subconscious control of it because your magic doesn't go from zero to sixty right away. Whatever you're drawing on to give you that subconscious control … that's your answer."

Emma looked thoughtful for a moment and then nodded.

Regina gave her a friendly smile. "I have to be getting back," she said, glancing first at the clock on Snow's bedside table and then at Charming and Snow. "Keep me posted."

"We will, Mom," Henry assured her. Then, in another cloud of purple smoke, she was gone.

For a long moment, no one said anything, all of them just trying to process what Regina had told them. Hook and Henry had both shifted closer to Emma and Snow, still holding a calm Neal, rounded the bed to sit at her daughter's side. For his part, Charming inched his chair closer to the bed and tightened his hand around his daughter's, the only way he could think of to give her extra comfort.

What on earth were they going to do? How were they going to help Emma through this?

"I have a plan," Emma said softly, breaking the tense silence in the room. She first met her father's gaze, then her mother's. "None of you are going to like it."

"What is it?" Hook asked.

"I have to experience the memories."

Just as she predicted, no one liked it. Everyone sat up straight, suddenly on alert. Hook was the first one to try to talk her out of it. "No–"

"Yes," she insisted. "You heard Regina. I have to get these emotions back to where they're manageable and the only way to do that is to face them. This right now?" She held up her hands, which were still held tightly in her father's and son's. "This is just another form of running. The contact is keeping the memories at bay but if I want to get a handle on them, I can't hide from them. You have to let me face the memories; it's the only way."

"But Regina told us to keep you in the present," Snow argued.

"No, she told you to keep me from getting lost in the past," Emma said gently. "There's a difference. You know how to bring me back if it looks like I'm falling too deep."

"Mom," Henry started but Emma shook her head, stopping his argument in its tracks.

It was clear his daughter's mind was made up but Charming just had one more question. "How do you know this is what you're supposed to do?"

"Because Regina said the key is whatever is giving me the subconscious control over my magic. That control comes from embracing my magic, not running from it. Elsa told me that I had to accept who I am to control my powers. Unless we all want to spend the rest of our lives holding hands in this room, you have to let me face the experiences that made me who I am."

A hesitant and troubled glance passed around the room. Charming could tell that none of them liked this course of action – just as Emma had predicted – but none of them could argue with her, either. His baby girl's demons were on her tail; the only options left were to continue to hide from them indefinitely or to face them down.

He got a nod from a clearly beside himself Hook. He got a second nod from a petrified Henry. And when he met his wife's eyes, he could see the same conflict that he was sure was mirrored in his own. The desire to help their baby girl was at war with their desire to protect her from certain pain and agony. Eventually, Snow swallowed hard and nodded her agreement as well.

Charming took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and squeezed his daughter's hand. "All right," he said, giving permission from the room. "We'll let you do this. We're going to be right here beside you, every step of the way."

Emma smiled and squeezed his hand back. "Damn straight you are. I wouldn't have it any other way."


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note:** Shoutout to drfits1, who gave me an idea for the end of this chapter. Thanks! Also, second to last chapter, guys! This is a long one, but I couldn't figure out where to split it if I were to split it, so I hope you don't mind. ;)

* * *

In the wake of Emma's assertion that she had to face the memories to beat them, the room had fallen into a tense silence. No one seemed to be ready to release their hold on Emma and let her fall back into the memories, and Emma didn't seem to be in a hurry to tell them to let go.

Snow had no doubt in her mind that her daughter was brave enough to face her demons but the thought of doing so was clearly making her anxious and apprehensive. She could see the trepidation in Emma's eyes despite Emma's attempts to hide it behind comforting smiles, mostly for her son's sake.

Despite his agreement with his mother's plan, poor Henry still had a death grip on her hand. "It's all right to let go, Henry," Emma was saying softly. "I'll be perfectly fine with all of you watching over me."

He nodded but still couldn't make himself let go.

The poor boy was struggling with being one of the people to actually send his mother back to the memories, Snow realized. As such, she figured giving him another job to do would serve as a decent distraction. "Henry, will you do me a favor?"

"What is it?" he asked, his voice quivering slightly.

She nodded towards baby Neal, still nestled calmly in her arms. "Will you hold Neal for me?"

A smile tugged at Henry's lips, making Snow give him a smile of her own. This was clearly the perfect arrangement. Allowing Henry some baby time gave him both a reason to let go of his mother's hand and something to focus on other than his mother's battle with her demons while allowing Snow to give her baby girl her undivided attention.

When Henry nodded, Snow gave baby Neal a kiss on his little forehead and passed him off to his nephew. The baby didn't fuss at the changing of the guard, as it were, and Henry shifted over to the foot of the bed to make room for his grandmother at Emma's side.

_Thank you_, Emma mouthed, clearly relieved that her mother had found a way to occupy the boy during what was not going to be an easy experience for any of them.

_You're welcome_, Snow mouthed back, giving her daughter a comforting smile.

The adults in the room now held a collective breath. It was time for Emma to take the next step and face the memories and emotions plaguing her but none of them were ready to let go. Not that Emma was ready herself; that trepidation had yet to fade from her eyes.

"We're not going to let you go until you're ready for us to do so, love," Hook assured her softly.

Emma nodded and took a deep breath, shoring up her courage. Snow's heart was simultaneously aching and pounding in her chest. As a mother, it killed her to see her baby girl like this. It killed her to have to watch her baby girl shore up her courage to face every awful memory she'd ever had. But a mother also knew her child, and she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that her remarkable baby girl was strong enough to face down her demons.

She reached down and comfortingly took the hand that Henry had released to take the baby. Emma met her gaze and smiled nervously. Snow gave her a calm smile back, not wanting her own fear and trepidation to show. Her daughter needed her to be strong, needed her to be confident. "You can do this, Emma. We'll be right here with you."

Emma nodded again, squared her shoulders, and took another deep breath. "Okay. I'm ready."

After a glance at each other, Charming and Hook released their hold on her hand and knee, respectively. Snow took a deep breath of her own, gave her baby girl's hand a comforting squeeze, and then let go. Emma was lost to the memories almost instantly, her vision clouding over and her gaze settling on the middle distance.

Again, a tense silence settled over the room. "What now?" Henry shakily asked after a moment, looking up from baby Neal, whose happy gurgling proved he was completely oblivious to the tension in the room, as well he should be.

"Now we watch," Snow said, exchanging a determined glance with Henry, Hook, and Charming in turn, "and we be ready to bring her back the second she needs it."

* * *

The memories behaved differently this time, as if Emma's own determination to beat them had made them ramp up the emotional torture.

She was in the car with Jenna, a confused and scared three-year-old crying into a teddy bear. Why were Mommy and Daddy sending her away? Why didn't they love her anymore?

And then she was in Mrs. Martin's class, sitting by herself at recess, her focus split between the book in her hands and the kids running past her, engaged in games with each other. Why didn't they want to play with her?

And then she was talking to Mrs. Drummond in an empty schoolyard after having been forgotten by her foster mother. Mrs. Drummond was telling her that someday she would find a family who loved her and Emma was more certain than ever that that day would never come.

Then she was sitting in a dark closet, the melting snow on the coats hung above her making the tiny space smell musty. She was crying, begging to be let out, because it was small and dark and she was hungry.

And then she was shackled to a gurney, giving birth to a baby she knew she couldn't keep.

The memories flashed one right after the other, jerking her from horrible moment to horrible moment with no time to breathe in between. The pain threatened to drown her. It was too much, too awful and painful to bear all at once.

She whimpered as another scene flashed before her, a little girl with blonde hair and green eyes getting settled into a station wagon with new parents who loved her already. A little girl a few years younger than Emma, a little girl who was getting everything Emma desperately wanted and would never find. Because Emma's chance was gone. She was too old; people didn't want teenagers, they wanted kids. No one was going to want her now. No one.

Emma squeezed her eyes shut in an effort to staunch her welling tears. Not that it mattered. She could still see everything as if her eyes were open. "No," she cried when the image changed again, shifting to Ingrid holding her in front of a moving car while telling her to halt it in its tracks with her mind. "Stop. Just stop!"

And then something miraculous happened: the images stopped. Just for a second, as if there had been a hiccup in the power, but they stopped. Emma blinked, coming back to herself a bit. It couldn't be that easy … could it?

"Stop."

The test of her hypothesis was a success. At the second blip in the images, a smile tugged at Emma's lips. Maybe she wasn't as powerless in the realm of memory as she'd thought.

* * *

Snow kept a watchful eye on her daughter, her heart breaking as tears leaked from Emma's eyes. The tension in the room was palpable. Charming and Hook were watching Emma as well but a scared Henry had focused most of his attention on his little uncle.

Snow couldn't blame him. Seeing his mother in such a state was of course terrifying for the boy and the only reason Snow had allowed him to remain in the room was because he would not hear of being gently kicked out. He wanted to be there for his mom but he didn't want to watch her in distress, so he was doing what he could by being in the room with her, ready to help the second he was needed, while not watching her struggle against the memories.

Snow exchanged a glance with a just as concerned Charming. Still, he gave her a little smile, an effort to send her strength. She smiled back, giving him just as much strength as he was giving her. Then she shifted her gaze to Hook. The former pirate looked as if it was killing him to allow Emma to go through what she was going through, and truthfully, it probably was. It was certainly killing Snow. She wanted nothing more than to grab Emma's hand and pull her back to the present and tell her she never had to go through anything like that ever again.

And then, Emma's soft, pained voice took Snow's aching heart and tore it into pieces: "No."

Oh gods, what was she seeing? What was happening? She met Charming's pained gaze, the two of them once again trying to give each other strength. There were no words for how hard it was for them to listen to their baby girl cry out and know they had to let her experience whatever she was seeing.

"Stop. Just stop!"

Snow closed her eyes, fighting every maternal instinct she had. She wanted so badly to bring her baby girl out of this. She wanted so very badly to help her, but she couldn't. She couldn't.

"Stop."

Something within Snow twisted and broke. Maternal instinct took over and she grasped Emma's hand.

Emma came back to herself in an instant. Her gaze focused and then darted around the room as she tried to get her bearings. "What happened?" she asked.

And now, seeing that Emma was perfectly fine, if a little disoriented, Snow felt kind of silly. "You were begging something to stop," she explained sheepishly. "I thought you needed to come back."

Emma gave her mother an embarrassed but touched smile. "If I was talking out loud, I can see why you'd think that but it was a good, 'Stop.' I think I've figured something out. It's okay to let me go back."

And in her baby's eyes, Snow saw nothing but determination and strength of will. Emma _had _discovered something, something that would give her an edge and hopefully something that would help her defeat the memories once and for all. After giving her baby girl a nod, Snow let her hand go and watched as Emma sank back into the memories.

* * *

The memories started again as soon as Snow let go of Emma's hand. But this time, Emma vowed that they would not drown her.

Secure in her new knowledge that she could exert at least some kind of control over the barrage of images, Emma squared her shoulders and forcefully said, "_Stop_."

The images obeyed her command, freezing in place as if she'd hit some kind of pause button. In some ways, having them all paused in front of her was worse. Every single memory the spell had called up still surrounded her, lurking in the darkness and waiting to pounce.

But at least they weren't bombarding her. At least she had room to breathe. At least she had time to think.

These memories were just that. They were memories. They were things that had happened, awful things, to be sure, but things that no one or nothing could change. No amount of agonizing over them or wishing things had been different was going to make them un-happen.

So now it was time to accept them. It was time to stop burying them and face them.

It was time to start living in the present.

She turned to the first memory in line, the one in the back of Jenna's car. The one of a scared, confused, angry three-year-old who didn't understand why the only mommy and daddy she'd ever known were giving her away. Emma was that little girl once but not anymore. Time and circumstances had changed her, because now … "Now I have a mom and a dad who love me and want me and would do anything for me."

To Emma's utter shock, the image vanished, leaving an empty black space in its wake.

So this _was_ the key then, acknowledging the pain of the past but refusing to allow that pain to consume her because she had so much more in her present.

To the image of the schoolyard in Mrs. Martin's class, she said, "Now I have friends who care about me." Elsa, Anna, Kristoff, Regina, Belle, Ruby, Granny … all these people in her life who cared about her.

That image faded as well.

Emma smiled smugly. To the image of giving birth to Henry and having to give him up, she said, "My son found me and our love for each other broke a curse."

To the image of sitting in the back of the cop car in the wake of Neal's betrayal, she said, "I have a guy who crossed realms to find me, to save me."

With each affirmation, the memories vanished. Soon, they were all gone and Emma was left in the darkness.

All right, now what? She'd kind of been expecting to be sent out of the memory realm once all the memories were vanquished.

Emma shut her eyes and tried to think. What was she missing?

And then it came to her.

Her past was important because it shaped the person she became but it no longer defined her. She wasn't the lonely young girl in those memories anymore. She was much, much more than that. "I am a daughter, a mother, a big sister, a friend, and a girlfriend. I was born a princess and grew up into the savior."

A blinding light overcame the darkness, causing Emma to squeeze her eyes shut against it. When she opened her eyes again, her parents' bedroom filled her field of vision. Her family surrounded her, Killian, Henry, Snow and David. She was so relieved to be back – to be _home_ – that she collapsed against her mother in a hug. "Mom!"

She felt Snow's arms curl around her and she felt David grasp her from the other side. She shifted so she could hug both her mom and her dad at the same time. Tears welled in her eyes when Snow kissed the side of her head and David gently whispered, "I knew you could do it, kiddo."

She stayed in her parents embrace for a long beat before sitting up straight and turning her attention to the other two people in the room. Er, make that three, as Henry was still holding baby Neal. The relief on Killian's and Henry's faces were plain as day as Emma leaned forward and wrapped the two of them in a hug as well. (Well, she kind of just slung her arm around Henry's shoulders, mindful of the baby in his arms.)

Killian released a heavy breath in her ear, making her hand reach up to tangle in his hair. Her poor former pirate must have been beside himself the whole time, if the tightness of his grip was anything to go by. "I'm so glad you're all right, love," he murmured.

"I'm perfectly fine, Killian," she murmured back.

She felt Killian nod and then pulled out of the embrace. She sat back against the pillows, her eyes glued to her baby brother. She remembered quite well the anger that had torn through her when the spell was still working on her. Thankfully, she felt none of it now. In fact, she felt overwhelmingly guilty for even considering the notion of being angry with the little squirt.

"Can I hold my baby brother?" she asked softly.

She felt more than saw her parents exchanging a glance over her head. Still, Snow nodded at Henry while saying, "Of course you can."

Henry passed her the baby and once he was settled in her arms, Emma looked down into his big blue innocent eyes. She felt an explosion of love and devotion and protection for her baby brother, as if the previous anger had been nothing but an awful dream. "I love you, squirt," she murmured, bending down to kiss his little forehead.

He gurgled happily at her in response.

She looked up at her parents' smiling faces and then across the bed at Killian's. "Welcome back, love," he said to her.

Emma smiled. It was great to be back.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note:** We've reached another end (and is typical of me, please have a toothbrush handy). Thank you all for the follows, favorites, and your lovely words of encouragement. You guys are seriously the best readers ever!

* * *

_I can't believe that my little girl is actually allowing this_, Charming thought, smiling to himself. Though Emma had been growing more comfortable with the little comforting touches that came with the love of family, he never thought he'd see the day that she would allow a full-on family snuggle.

Never, that is, until today. Baby Neal was still settled contently in Emma's arms. Charming himself and Snow had tucked themselves on either side of their babies, and Henry had curled up on his side with his head resting on his mother's knees. Hook sat at the foot of the bed, leaning back against the footboard with his legs outstretched alongside hers, a content smile on his face at the sight of the family comforting each other.

She allowed the snuggle – hell, seemed to _need_ the snuggle – for a full five minutes, which was a full five minutes longer than Charming had ever anticipated. Then she seemed to come back to her typical, independent self. "You know what?" she said somewhat sheepishly. "I need to get up and _do_ something."

Everyone took the hint, albeit reluctantly. Henry pushed himself back up into a sitting position as Snow and Charming both shifted out of their daughter's personal space. "Like what?" Henry asked his mother.

"_Anything_," Emma said, much to everyone's amusement. "I feel like I've been lying here _forever_."

She hadn't, of course. It had only been a few hours since Regina and Hook had brought her home. Charming figured she was growing somewhat embarrassed by all the attention and simply needed a handy excuse.

Snow, apparently, figured the same thing. Chuckling softly, she slipped baby Neal from his sister's arms. "Go on, sweetheart."

Emma gave her mother a grateful smile and pushed herself off the bed. "Thanks." Then she grabbed Hook's hand, pulled the smiling pirate to his feet, and dragged him out of the room.

Charming and Snow raised their eyebrows at each other while Henry swallowed a grin. By silent agreement, the three of them decided to follow Emma and Hook out of the room.

As was typical of Emma, it seemed that her choice of activity was putting together something to eat. A smirk tugged at Charming's lips when he saw her bent in front of the open fridge, a package of bacon, a head of lettuce, and the jar of mayo tucked in her arms. Apparently, she was craving a BLT.

"Let me guess," he teased as he ducked into the kitchen and grabbed a tomato off the counter to slice for her, "battling your inner demons works up quite the appetite."

"You have _no_ idea," Emma replied.

Charming smiled. That, and it was coming up on dinnertime.

Hook stepped forward and took the mayo and lettuce from her. "Allow me, love."

She arched an eyebrow at the pirate. "You make many BLTs over the centuries?"

"I've watched you enough," he replied, hiding a smirk. "I should be able to figure out it." He eyed the rest of the family. "Would you all like sandwiches as well?"

Touched, Snow and Charming answered in the affirmative. Henry grinned and, as was typical of a growing almost-teenage boy, said, "I'd like two, please."

Emma rolled her eyes but nodded her permission to Hook, who set to work on preparing the bacon for the sandwiches. Once he got the tomato sliced, Charming opened the cabinet and got the plates down to set the table. Henry, meanwhile, began searching the fridge and cabinets for potential side dishes to go with their dinner.

Out of the corner of his eye, Charming saw Emma raise her eyebrows at Snow, who simply smiled back. Since the guys were taking care of dinner, the girls had nothing left to do but sit down and hang out with the baby while they waited.

Truthfully, they'd pretty much engineered it that way. Emma may have wanted to get up and do something but it was quite obvious that both the emotional upheaval from the spell and her subsequent fight to regain control of the memories had left her exhausted. Stubborn as she was, she wasn't likely to choose to relax so her family had taken matters into their own hands.

As he set the table, Charming watched Snow walk Emma to the couch and make sure she was settled comfortably before sitting down herself. A warm, fuzzy feeling filled his heart when Emma reached out for her brother's tiny hand, shifting closer to Snow as she did so.

His baby girl was most definitely back, her walls lower than ever before.

Once the table was set, Charming ducked back into the bedroom to retrieve his phone. He sent a brief message to Regina, telling her that Emma had defeated the memories and things were back to normal. A minute or so later, the former queen's reply came through: _Glad to hear it. The next chance I get, I'd like to poof in and check on her, just to make sure there aren't any residual magical effects._

That actually sounded like a wonderful idea; though everything seemed to be perfectly fine, better safe than sorry. He typed a quick message back: _Sure thing. We'll be home all evening. Be safe._

Messages delivered, Charming slipped from the bedroom and went back out to his girls. "I let Regina know that everything's okay now," he told them, easily avoiding his wife's slight glare for sitting on non-sitting furniture when he eased down on the coffee table. "She said she's going to poof in to check on you when she can."

Emma smiled at him, making his heart leap for joy. Gods, how he loved seeing his little girl smile. "Thanks, Dad."

And oh gods, how he loved hearing her call him Dad. "You're welcome, kiddo."

Charming relished this little moment of togetherness with his wife and babies for a long moment, the air in the apartment smelling comfortingly of the cooked bacon. Then, from behind him, Henry cleared his throat. "Dinner is served."

To Charming's surprise, on each plate sat a perfect BLT, sliced diagonally. Henry's plate, of course, had two sandwiches. The boy had set the tubs of potato and pasta salads on the table as well as the bags of Doritos and sour cream and onion chips. The jar of pickle slices also sat on the table, Charming assumed more for Emma's benefit than anyone's. She popped those things like candy.

"Well," Emma said as she began piling her plate with potato salad, "color me surprised. The pirate can actually make a decent BLT."

"Decent?" Snow spoke up as she placed baby Neal in his bassinet. "These sandwiches look too perfect to eat. Thank you, Hook."

The pirate nodded reverently as he finished pouring Emma's glass of water for her. "You're welcome, milady."

The family sat down at the table to eat. And with his first bite of sandwich, Charming had to admit that the pirate did actually make damn good BLTs.

Conversation flowed as they ate. Charming kept his eye on Emma, who spent most of the meal sitting back and just taking it all in. Her family, the people who loved her more than anything in the world, sitting together, bonded by their love for her. At one point, she caught Charming's eye and smiled sheepishly. He smiled back at her, silently telling her it was perfectly all right to want the togetherness, to enjoy it and revel in it.

Once everyone had eaten their fill of sandwiches and salads and chips, Hook stood with the intention of clearing the table. Emma stood as well, shaking her head as she wrapped her hands around her own plate and glass. "You cooked, Killian. You're not cleaning up, too."

"I'm cleaning up," Henry insisted as he slipped the plates first from Hook's hand and then his mother's. "You two go sit."

"You know," Emma huffed, "I originally left the bedroom because I wanted to _do_ something."

"You _are_ doing something," Hook said as he led her back to the couch. "You're relaxing."

Charming swallowed a chuckle as Emma rolled her eyes at the pirate's gentle teasing. "You know that's not what I meant." Still, she turned on the TV and curled up on the sofa with Hook without further argument.

Oh, yes. Charming's poor baby girl was _exhausted_.

By the time Snow, Charming, and Henry cleaned the kitchen and gotten all the dishes washed, dried, and put away, poor Emma was half-asleep in front of the TV, slouched against Hook. Snow and Charming shared a smile while Henry swallowed an amused snicker.

A peek in on Neal proved that the baby, just as tired as his sister, had stopped fighting his exhaustion. With the baby snugly asleep, the rest of Emma's family approached the living area. "Looks like bedtime for some of us might be earlier than anticipated," Snow softly teased.

Emma blinked and sat up, trying and failing to prove just how not tired she was. Still, no one could seem to make themselves force her to get up and go to bed. After coming so close to losing her to first the spell and then the memories, Charming himself needed a little bit more togetherness with her. He was willing to bet everyone else felt the same way.

"So," Emma said, breaking the somewhat awkward silence in the room, "we can't just sit here and stare at each other all night. We need to do something."

"I have playing cards upstairs," Henry offered.

The adults all exchanged a questioning glance. Everyone seemed to be in agreement, so Emma said, "Go get 'em, kid."

Henry smiled and took off for the loft. As soon as the boy was out of earshot, Emma grew serious. "Thank you, guys," she said to her parents and pirate. "For this afternoon, I mean. It couldn't have been easy ..."

Hook tightened his arm around her in response. "You're welcome, love."

"It was our pleasure, Emma," Snow told her gently.

"This is, after all, what family does," Charming added. "We support each other. We're there for each other. We love each other."

Tears glistened in his baby girl's eyes. "I'm very glad you guys are my family," she said softly.

Charming's heart, which had been so broken earlier while he watched his baby girl struggle, soared at her words. He took his little girl's hands in his and smiled at her. "And we're very glad that you're ours."

She smiled at him, squeezing his hands in a combination of gratitude and love.

They _were_ a family, and together, there was nothing they couldn't face.


End file.
